


Strange and Unusual

by noodlerdoodler



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Beetlejuice References, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:53:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21609526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlerdoodler/pseuds/noodlerdoodler
Summary: The Campbells move into a haunted house... What could go wrong?
Relationships: Ashley Campbell & Maple, Larry Johnson/Travis Phelps, Sal Fisher/Larry Johnson, Sal Fisher/Travis Phelps
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	Strange and Unusual

It was much too late out for anybody else to be on the road. It was lucky, perhaps, that nobody else was on the road as it would’ve been easy enough to crash on these twisting roads in the height of summer. Let alone now, in the middle of the night, with rain lashing against the tarmac and causing the wheels of the car to screech every time her dad slammed the breaks on. Ash couldn’t help thinking that driving for two days straight couldn’t be good for him.

She lifted her elbow from where she was resting it against the window and glanced at her brother, who was strapped into his car seat next to her. He’d dropped off to sleep a few hours ago, resting his head against the icy window, and every now and again would mumble something to himself. Ash was glad that he was getting some rest- since mom had… since everything changed, Ben hadn’t slept much. He often woke up, frequently having nightmares about being buried alive since attending the funeral, and crawled into Ash’s bed. She got it. She didn’t sleep well either anymore. 

“Ashley, are you looking out the window? That’s your new school on the left,” Her dad was being enthusiastic as ever about the move, pretending that everything was absolutely fine. 

Turning her head back to the window, Ash saw an ominous block of hard bricks with windows carved into the face of it. It hardly looked inviting. She couldn’t help thinking of her old school, which she’d up and left so suddenly- she hadn’t even got to say goodbye to her friends. Her old school had been a specialist school, focusing on the arts, and it had been beautiful; modern and sleek, standing tall amongst the other buildings in the city. She somehow doubted that Nockfell High, (though someone had crudely graffitied the sign so it read “Cockfell”), would have an adequate art and photography program. 

Ashley leaned on her hand with a sigh, missing her old friends. Even if, by the end, they never knew what to say to her anymore and she didn’t know what to say to them either. After your mom dies, it’s kind of hard to take conversations about high school crushes and algebra too seriously. It makes everything else kind of… fade into oblivion. Meaningless. 

Her dad cut through her thoughts, taking a hand off the wheel to point, “Just up ahead, kiddos!” 

It was hard to make out the looming figure in the distance through the rain lashing against the window. Ash leaned forward, between the driver and passenger seat, to try and make out the shape of the building. It didn’t look too much like a house.

As they got closer, she realised that it looked a lot more like a prison than it did like a house. A block solid building made of ugly grey bricks with gaping holes for windows and odd towers marking the corners of it. Ash supposed that in the daylight, it would almost look like a fairytale castle, but in the dark, it just looked like a murder scene. She could easily picture a public hanging taking place in the front yard, people coming to laugh and jeer at petty criminals. There was no garage, so her dad just parked out front and got out of the car. 

“Home sweet home…” Ash kicked open her door and joined him in the pouring rain. 

“Sure is something, hey, Ash?” Her dad ruffled her hair with one hand, like he did when she was little. He was always doing stuff like that nowadays, treating her like a kid; it was like he’d forgotten how to parent a teenager anymore and had reverted back to raising a kid. He’d even started making her tuna sandwiches with the crusts cut off- her favourite lunch in grade school. Deep down, she supposed it was because he cared. 

But it just seemed like her dad hadn’t noticed her growing up. 

“You guys head in… I’ll unpack the car…” He ruffled her hair again and this time, she squirmed out of his grip. She didn’t enjoy the hurt look that she received as a reward and pretended she didn’t see it, fixing her gaze somewhere in the distance. 

As she walked round to the other side of the car, her boots sank into the wet mud that made up their front yard. Honestly, walls could be plastered with the stuff. Carefully, Ash pulled her brother out of the car and balanced him on her hip, even though he was getting much too old to be carried. Half awake, he pressed his face into her shoulder and she felt the warmth of his little face against his neck. Ben was the only person who hugged her anymore- her dad didn’t dare. 

“Love you, Lashley,” her brother mumbled against her neck. 

Ash blinked back the stinging feeling in her eyes, “Let’s just get out of the rain.” 

-

It was rare that anybody came to the house anymore. There was the odd urban explorer, sure, or people hoping to catch the “ghosts” for their Youtube reel but they were usually in and out within a few hours. These people… they seemed to be intent on sticking around for a while at least. Sal guessed this, crouching at the top of the main stairs and watched a middle aged man rearranging boxes in the hallway- they had too many boxes just to be ghost hunters looking for a thrill. 

He wondered if they had more furniture coming or if they had managed to fit everything they owned into the back of their motorcar. Certainly, by the time that he had come here, he only had the clothes on his back and a handful of belongings they stripped away from him when he arrived. They said he’d get them back, if he was good. Then, they’d laughed at him. Called him a little freak. Sometimes, Sal wonders how long it took people to decide he was guilty. Minutes. 

“I thought you said that you weren’t going to get involved with humans anymore,” came an amused voice from behind his shoulder and another figure dropped onto to the ground beside him. Travis always sat with his knees folded under him, as if praying. Force of habit, Sal guessed. 

He shook his head, “They can’t see us. That man’s too mundane to even contemplate that somebody else might be here and like father, like daughter.”

“You’re too curious for your own good, Sal,” Travis fingered the crucifix that hung around his neck, thoughtfully, “Did you say there was more of them?”

Silently, Sal rose to his feet, his joints cracking loudly like they always did when he moved. With Travis close behind, he stepped down the main stairs and peered through the doorway on the righthand side. This room had been a reception when he had been here, where they’d brought in prisoners and checked in visitors alike; he could still remember vividly the day he’d first step foot in here, forced to stripped naked in front of the staff, and how a security guard had spat on him. 

They’d made him lean forward and hacked roughly at his hair with scissors, the soft strands of blue hair landing on his lap. Sal felt an odd emptiness as he watched his identity being stripped away- his hair had been the last thing he had to remind him of his father. When they’d shown him his reflection, he hadn’t seen himself. He didn’t know this sallow stranger with a hollow face and uneven blue locks sticking out at all angles. The clothes they gave him hung oddly on his frame. 

A hand squeezed his shoulder, “He will be with you; he will not fail you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.” And Travis met his eyes, “I… You get this look on your face when you’re remembering things. It’s hard to ignore.”

Sal appreciated the feeling of Travis’s hand resting on his shoulder, grounding him.

“They’re a family,” The other boy added, after a pause. And Sal nodded.

On the misshapen couch, leftover from several years ago now, a girl who looked to be about thirteen or fourteen was out like a light. She lay on her side with her mass of dark hair hanging over her face and one arm around her little brother as if she thought he might be snatched away. Even her body curled around the small boy protectively. It was obvious they were siblings, even when sleeping, as they shared the same dark skin and hair, matching facial structures. Their chests even seemed to rise and fall in unison, as if they breathed the same air.

Sal scratched his head, thoughtfully, “It’s never been a family before.”

“Would you raise your kids in this living cemetery?” Travis sounded bitter, folding his arms across his chest. Of course- it was so easy to forget that Travis had grown up here, Megan too, and that this place had been a home before not once but twice. It never ended well for anyone.

Before Sal could reply, they were disturbed by the middle aged man from the hallway passing through the doorway and, in addition, their own forms. The feeling was incredibly unpleasant, causing Travis to shiver as if he was cold and Sal to grit his teeth as his stomach lurched involuntarily. Not fair that they should still be able so gross, even though they’re dead.

The man shuddered too, glancing over his shoulder and looking right through them. He shook his head, seeming to dismiss the feeling as something else, and scooped the little boy off the couch. For as much as the boy and girl looked like each other, neither looked too much like their father; he had lighter skin, a wide frame with big shoulders, and his hair was thinning. The boy yawned. 

This time, they both made sure to duck out of the way as the man passed through the doorway and began up the stairs, with his son in his arms. Undisturbed, the girl remained completely still as if she had passed out as opposed to just being asleep. Her arm, previously wrapped around her brother, went limp and lolled lifelessly off the edge of the couch. 

“Why do you suppose they moved here?” Travis wondered aloud. 

Sal shrugged. He pulled a blanket out of one of the boxes, one knitted from dark purple wool, and draped it over the sleeping girl. It got deathly cold in this house, (pun intended Larry would say), and he didn’t want her to freeze. Travis rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue, still learning empathy- that was a long and slow uphill battle for him. Sparing one last look at the girl on the couch, Sal turned back to his friend and the corner of his mouth twitched.

“What are you smiling at?” Travis snorted.

Sal shook his head so his hair covered his face, “Megan will be happy.”


End file.
